


Fire (In My Heart)

by brokencasbutt67



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Crowley Thinks Aziraphale is Dead, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fire, First Kiss, Holding Hands, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, M/M, Nicknames, Requited Unrequited Love, Scared Crowley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 08:59:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19422745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokencasbutt67/pseuds/brokencasbutt67
Summary: So this is my first Good Omens fic and literally, I'm so behind, I keep meaning to watch it but no time. Let me know what you think in the comments!





	Fire (In My Heart)

Flames licked at his skin, the smoke burned his throat. When he’d seen the building burning away, he knew he needed to go and find Aziraphale. He screamed, shouted, cried searching for the angel until he had to leave. His clothes were charred when he escaped, his black jacket was ruined. He narrowly avoided a wooden bar crushing him. Seeing the floor collapse, Crowley felt his heart sinking. Tears streamed down his cheeks, he didn’t have the energy or the fight, to clean them away. 

_ “Crowley!”  _ Aziraphale’s voice hit Crowley’s ears and the relief that flooded his chest had him falling to his knees and tears streaming down his cheeks. He saw the blur of white moving towards him and he felt relief wash over him again. Arms embraced him and Crowley inhaled the scent he recognised so well.    
“Azzie…” He whispered, voice rough and thick with smoke, he could barely breathe, only choke. Aziraphale flushed at the nickname, but instead of reacting to it, he knew he needed to get Crowley away from the shop.

The angel managed to lift him and encouraged him to walk away from the scene, sitting on a bench a few miles over in a park.    
“Crowley, why did you go back inside?” Aziraphale asked.    
“I-I” Crowley stuttered, before coughing roughly. Aziraphale rubbed his hand over Crowley’s back.   
“I thought you were in there” Crowley murmured, a few moments later. Aziraphale felt his heart soften at Crowley’s words. He moved to sit beside Crowley on the bench, unsure of how to comfort the other being.    
“I...I…” Aziraphale stuttered and stumbled over his words for a few moments before deciding that he didn’t want to say anything, he  _ couldn’t  _ say anything meaningful. Instead, he moved slightly closer to Crowley, his arm resting along the back of the wooden bench. Crowley's shaking hands brushed his slick hair back for a moment.    


The air around them shifted back to calm, and the silence became almost unbearable. Both wanted to say something,  _ anything _ . Yet neither knew the right words to say. Aziraphale wanted to ask questions:  _ why had Crowley gone back? Is he that important to Crowley?   
_

Crowley, on the other hand, he is grateful, and he wants to sing it from the rooftops. Aziraphale is safe, unharmed and beside him. Sure, Crowley’s clothes are charred and burnt, but he doesn’t care, Aziraphale is safe beside him. The tension becomes thick, so thick that even a butter knife wouldn’t cut it. Biting his lip, Crowley sneaks a look to Aziraphale from the corner of his eye. The aura of  _ white _ that’s emitted by the other being calms Crowley’s nerves enough that he takes a leap, figuratively, not literally.   


Shifting on the spot, Crowley turned to face Aziraphale. Leaning over the other being, Crowley cupped the slightly soft jaw in between his thumb and index finger before leaning down. Aziraphale is responsive, Crowley has learnt that previously. But kissing him? That’s a different situation completely. Aziraphale’s entire body moves with the kiss, shifting impossibly close to Crowley. Arms wind around Crowley’s neck, it takes him a moment to realise that his own hands are gripping Aziraphale’s slightly doughy hips.    
  
It takes a shout of ‘get a room, faggots’ for the pair to separate. A pink tinge covers Aziraphale’s cheeks, a slight chuckle and an awkward shift. Neither know what to do. Aziraphale breaks the silence after a few moments.    
“Well, that was pleasant”    


A few moments more pass, the tension is building. Crowley is about to stand up, to leave this,  _ the love of his life _ . Before he can, a cool hand slides beside his own warm hand, fingers intertwining. Looking down, he takes a moment to realise that it’s Aziraphale’s hand in his own. Crowley looks over to Aziraphale and smiles, relaxing against the bench. In the distance, the sun is setting. The smoke from the bookshop is still thick, though dissipating rapidly as firefighters attempt to tackle the blaze. Crowley rests his arm over the back of the bench, a habit he’s had for years. He doesn’t expect Aziraphale to curl closer to him. 


End file.
